


Unexpected

by gin_tonic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: snape_potter, M/M, Secret Snarry Swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-24 02:31:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gin_tonic/pseuds/gin_tonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Severus goes to his local tavern for a pint and to catch up with his neighbors and finds Harry there, passing through […]"</i> – Fall turns into Winter. Severus didn't think that the rest of the year held any surprises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> **Gift Recipient:** [](http://alafaye.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**alafaye**](http://alafaye.dreamwidth.org/)  
>  **A/N:** Dear Giftee, I just used part of your prompt for this, but I hope you like the result nevertheless. Happy Holidays!  
>  Now, I owe a thousand thanks (at least!) to [](http://starduchess.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://starduchess.dreamwidth.org/)**starduchess** for the wonderful, quick and detailed beta-work!  <3 Thank you!

November. Autumn had rolled over the country quickly, as if it wanted to get out of winter's way. Now most of the red and brown leaves were gone and frost covered the ground. Severus enjoyed the time – outdoors became more peaceful all of a sudden; children avoided going out on the dusky, rainy days while desperately waiting for the first snow to fall. Drinking a cup of tea near the fireplace became even more pleasurable and going to the pub on Friday nights was, too. Severus liked the feeling when he entered The Jumping Pig in the evening, shook off the November chill and let warmth and the smell of beer and fresh pies fill him. Today was no different.

Severus nodded at Ned behind the bar (who immediately began to pour him a pint of the local brew) then let his eyes roam around the pub for a suitable place to sit down. What he spotted instead, though, did not please him in the least.

"Potter," he growled and stalked over to the small table where Potter – of all people! – sat, pressing an ice-pack to his forehead. Dotty, Ned's wife, looked up and smiled at Severus before looking back at Harry with the worry only doting mothers could display.

"Sebastian, you know this young man?"

Severus was inclined to say no and return to his beer, but Potter already had this look in his eye that he knew it wouldn't be happening one way or another. He sighed, pinched his nose and nodded. "Unfortunately, I do."

Severus eyed Potter again, surprised that he had yet to say something, and wondered what on earth he was doing here. But that question had to wait until they were no longer in the company of Muggles. Thankfully, there was no need to be more than barely civil. After all, people knew him here. "What happened?"

"Slipped and fell." Apparently Potter was still capable of speaking. Oh joy.

"It was quite epic," Sean Hennessey, carpenter by trade and loudmouth pub regular by hobby, said from the sidelines. Usually he was wise enough not to bother Severus, but Severus was willing to let it slide this time. After all, curiosity trumped rules. "He slipped on a patch of ice, started falling backwards, twisted mid-air, and broke the fall with his head." Hennessey grinned.

Severus gave Potter a once-over. Pale, but looking fine otherwise. Definitely nothing worse than a concussion. "His abnormally _hard_ head."

Potter tried glaring at him but didn't succeed at all. Severus was sure it was only partly due to the ice-pack. Then Potter turned to Dotty and asked for a cup of tea.

She bustled off with an "Of course, dear."

Severus looked at his pint, then back at Potter. Better to get this over with. He fetched his pint and sat down at Potter's table, waiting for him to start talking, because they all did if he stared at them long enough. It had worked with his Slytherins; Potter didn't even last a minute.

"I didn't know you lived around here."

"Lie."

Potter shifted uncomfortably on his chair but didn't try to argue. It was astounding how easy Potter still was to read. "Okay. I knew you lived somewhere in town, but not where, exactly," Potter amended, then paused as if he was expecting another interruption from Severus. But Potter's explanation seemed plausible enough. Severus had never discussed his living arrangements with Potter or anyone close to that man-child. He let Potter continue. "I was in the area and became hungry. The pub seemed like a good idea, but I hadn't really counted on frozen puddles this time of year."

"It's colder up here in the North." Severus nodded.

"Maybe, but I like it here. And now I'm prepared for the next time. Always watch out for frozen puddles." Potter held up his forefinger like he was lecturing someone, and he was grinning. But what had caught Severus' attention was that Potter apparently planned on returning.

"Next time?"

Potter nodded – and immediately winced. Shouldn't have moved his head so quickly, the idiot. "Yeah," he eventually said, "I'm looking for a house here."

"To live in?" Severus asked, aghast.

"Of course."

Dotty brought over the cup of tea but bustled back the kitchen, thankfully.

"I have been thinking of moving away from London for a while now. Grimmauld Place is great as regards having something that connects me to Sirius, but the place is too big for just Kreacher and me. Besides, despite every bit of home improvement that I have done, the place still looks bleak. And Sirius never liked the place anyway."

"No," Severus said, but Potter mistook it for agreement.

"Exactly. And I've been looking for a region to live in – with our methods of transportation it really isn't a matter of distance, right? And I like it here. Reminds me of my childhood and of home, without being too close to Hogwarts, you know?"

"No!" This time he said it with more force, lest Potter mistake his meaning again. "You will not move to this town!" Potter owlishly blinked up at him – Severus hadn't even noticed he had jumped to his feet. And he did not care about the stares he now got. Potter wouldn't – couldn't – _mustn't_ move to town!

But instead of exploding as well, as Severus had expected him to, Potter shrugged, said, "Well, I haven't found the right house yet, anyway," and calmly sipped his bloody fucking tea.

******

  
Severus finished his pint quicker than he would have liked and motioned for Potter to follow him outside. Without checking if Potter really was behind him, Severus strode to his house, although it pained him to have Potter know where he lived. But it was Friday night and the streets were busy enough, despite the season, with people eager to drink their week's sorrows away. Too many Muggles and no dark corners to send Potter on his way. After all, Potter couldn't Apparate in his condition and in order to Floo he needed a good, strong healing spell or at least a quality potion. And the need to get rid of Potter left Severus no choice but to bring him here – to his detached little house with a small garden and a well-warded shed that served as his laboratory.

Once inside, Severus was quick to summon the potion and pressed it into Potter's hands. "Take it and be gone."

"You want to get rid of me this quickly?" Potter asked, going for humour and failing spectacularly.

"Not quick enough." He had to keep Potter from moving here, from coming back at all. Think! "I don't want you here." Didn't they say honesty was the best way?

Potter blinked at him with that same stupid look that he always wore when things didn't go according to Severus' plans. "I'm leaving. Don't worry."

"Don't come back."

Potter downed the potion, made a face and turned to the fireplace. Without further ado he grabbed a handful of Floo powder, said, "See you!" and was gone. Dammit.

******

  
Harry woke up the next morning, fighting against the headache that was trying to keep him in bed, with a mixture of dread and excitement. He couldn't believe he had actually met Snape, of all people! When he'd been sitting there with an ice-pack, he'd cursed his bad luck, but then Snape had walked in. It had been ages since he'd last seen the man. Maybe even a whole year, when Kingsley had forced all of them to attend the Ministry's Yule ball. Back then Harry had hoped to be able to talk to Snape – and not just because it would allow him to sneak away from the bloody dancing – but Snape had managed to slip away as he always did. It was so frustrating! But now Harry knew where he had to go if he wanted to see Snape, and knowing put him in a weirdly good mood – despite the headache.

He dragged himself out of bed and down the stairs into the kitchen. He didn't much care for the other rooms in the house. The sitting room on the ground floor that had been used by the Order was alright, too. But he didn't feel at home here in this tomb.

Why Scotland, though? Why Snape's town of all of those up there? Harry didn't quite know why the first town he'd looked at – and the only town that really interested him from the get go – was Snape's. But for some reason Harry had the feeling he could be happy there. Be at home. Maybe if he and Snape finally got the chance to talk everything out, they could be friends.

A couple of days later Harry returned to Thornhill. A list of properties in hand, he strolled through the streets, looking left and right while falling more and more in love with the town. It was nice here. Quite Muggle, but here and there he could spot signs of the wizards and witches who lived here. There were obvious signs of winter everywhere – fairy lights that had already been put up, children in thick jackets chasing the last autumn leaves. It was peaceful, Harry found.

******

  
Severus had enjoyed several quiet days. They had passed as all days had before Potter had deemed it a good idea to come to Thornhill – quiet. He had brewed several potions for clients, and although the potions had been challenging to brew, Severus had found the process relaxing. Being an independent potions master allowed him all the freedoms he had sorely missed during his employment at Hogwarts. Now he could do as he saw fit, could concentrate on work, stroll around in the moors looking for rare potion ingredients, finally read all those books he had bought over the years. Before he'd moved here, he'd never had the time to read them all. And he now had time to go to the pub on Friday nights – if Potter wasn't there, that was. Potter, the bane of his existence.

Severus shook his head and tried to dislodge the thought from his head. For now he had more important things to think about; he was out of milk. Plus, it wouldn't hurt to buy some vegetables, too. Checking his cauldrons one more time, Severus gathered his things and left.

The air was crisp and filled with the faint smell of rotting, wet leaves and earth. Severus enjoyed days like this – they seemed more real, more honest than those humid days of summer that always promised to last but never did. Soon the first snow would fall, Severus was sure of it.

Severus nodded at a couple of people he had met before – not that he cared for more interaction than the occasional cordial greeting – then slipped into the next street that he had secretly declared his personal shortcut. Being in no hurry, he looked left and right to see if anything had changed since he walked this way the last time. He checked the neighbouring streets, thankful for it being a school day because no footballs came flying in his direction, glared at a cat that had some similarity to Minerva, who would undoubtedly drop in, unannounced, during the next couple of weeks. She called it a friendly visit; he called it checking up on him and looking for chances to meddle.

A glance into the next street had Severus drawing his head back quickly. Potter. Strolling around like he had nothing better to do. Severus would recognise that stupid messy hair anywhere. He dared to glimpse into the street again and saw Potter look at a list, nodding to himself, before he moved down the street. So he had been serious about moving here.

Severus cursed, but quietly in order to keep Potter from turning around and noticing him. Without much hesitation, he decided to follow Potter. He needed to see what he was up to. And the fact alone that Potter must've taken time off from the warding company he worked at told Severus that Potter moving to town was more than a mere possibility now.

Severus carefully cast several hard-to-detect concealing charms and followed Potter at a secure distance. He wondered why Potter had never changed his appearance over the years. Sure, Potter had grown up in more than one way since his first year at Hogwarts. His hair had grown long after the war, only to be cut again; his clothes had become less shabby. But Potter had remained Potter – first a boy, now a man – who preferred the comfortable to the stylish, the familiar to the new. Apart from his living arrangements, apparently. But then Potter had always been somewhat unpredictable about everything but his appearance, whether it was his nightly wanderings, his performance at school, or his choice of occupation. And his sexual orientation – after all, everyone had expected him to marry the Weasley girl. Instead he'd fallen into bed with one of the decidedly less important male classmates. Corner or McLaggen or whatever the oaf's name had been. It hardly mattered, seeing as there already had been two other ones since him. And they, too, had gone.

Severus watched Potter walk towards a detached house with a sign in front. Muggle or magic? Severus couldn't tell from that distance. What he could tell was that it was decidedly too close to his own home. He wondered if he could and should cast a spell, a curse maybe, on the house to make it unappealing. But Potter, with his background in warding and curse training, would surely notice. But maybe he could conjure cockroaches or rats and let them loose in the house.

While Severus was still musing how to prevent Potter from moving into it, Potter had knocked and, upon the door opening, entered. Severus was alone on the street.

******

  
Harry carefully avoided the frozen puddle in front of the pub and ducked inside. He shook off the cold; he definitely needed a thicker jacket or improvement on his warming charms. He couldn't see Snape, but couldn't decide if that was a good or a bad thing.

Harry ordered a pint and sat down at a table near the wall from which he could see the door. Alternating between looking at that and at the menu, Harry bided his time. Sure enough, Snape entered after a little while and spotted Harry immediately. But instead of coming over to start insulting him, Snape went to the bar first and ordered what Harry supposed was his usual.

The greeting he received when Snape joined his table was as cordial as he'd expected. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking at houses," Harry said and didn't even pretend he wasn't playing dumb. It earned him a glare.

"Do you want me to hex you? Because nothing would give me more pleasure."

Harry held up his hands in defeat. "Alright, alright. I did look at houses, but then I was in need of something to eat – and a pint. And I liked it here last time."

"House hunting not going well?"

"You don't have to be so smug about it."

"No, but I want to."

This time it was Harry who was doing the glaring. "I was actually hoping I might run into you." Harry could swear he saw Snape's eyes bulge and he couldn't help but feel gleeful.

"Whatever for?" Snape croaked.

Harry didn't quite know the answer to that. To chat, yes. But why? Harry decided to go for honesty and shrugged. "I don't know. I just think we have a lot to talk about."

"Do we now?"

"Yes, of course -"

Snape sighed. "Potter, if this is about your mother -"

"It's not," Harry interrupted him. "There's just...we've been in a war, you and me, and -"

"I'd rather forget about that."

"I...okay. I get that." Harry took a careful sip from his lager. "You could tell me more about this town."

"Why should I? I don't want you to move here."

Harry decided to ignore that. "Do you go anywhere else apart from the pub?"

Snape sniffed and sneered. At the same time. The effect was quite remarkable. "Where I go and what I do is none of your concern."

Harry raised his hands in defeat. "Fine, fine. But you do like it here, right?"

"Potter. Why ever would you think I would still live here if I didn't like it?"

"Okay then!" Harry grinned. "But tell me, why do you not want me to move here?"

"I find you terribly annoying."

Harry shrugged. "As long as it's nothing worse."

******

  
But it was worse. Potter had left the pub with the promise of coming back and Severus couldn't find it in him to be all that angry about it. He wanted to – Merlin, he prayed for anger – and did his best to snarl at Potter. But truth was that the idea of Potter returning to town wasn't all that horrible. He had _liked_ talking to Potter. Potter wasn't as much of an idiot as he had been – he had grown up.

But despite all of that, Severus knew that Potter just couldn't move to town. Because even though Severus had done his best to detest Potter, he hadn't been able to stop himself from thinking about that time in the Forest of Dean when he had seen Potter bare-chested and desperate and Severus had become hard instantly. Potter had always had an effect on him, had made him angry enough to hex people, but never before had Severus found himself attracted to the boy. (Man. He should say man now, if only for his own sanity.) Severus didn't know what had changed, but seeing Potter during and after his trial had erased every suspicion that he'd only been attracted to Potter because he'd been the first naked man he'd seen in months. To have Potter move into his town, therefore, was an impossibility.

Maybe if he warned house owners not to sell to Potter...maybe if he said Potter did drugs or that he was a terrorist. He couldn't use mind-altering spells, of course, since they were being monitored since the war, but...no, impossible. He couldn't possibly know which house Potter would look at next and he refused to put research into this. There were enough productive things he could use his time for. Like brewing a potion that would make Potter look completely unattractive to him. Now if only he could find out how to get into the possession of Weasley-hair....

******

  
Harry lay awake for a long while that night. Things hadn't gone quite as planned that day, yet it had been a good day somehow. A couple of years ago sitting with Snape in a pub and enjoying himself would have seemed an impossibility. He would have checked himself for hexes had he caught himself at that thought. But now? The evening had been enjoyable, good even. It made him look even more forward to moving to town. He was doing the right thing, Harry was sure about that. And really, he could Apparate to work just as quickly as he did now. The only reason why he'd lived in Grimmauld Place for so long was that it had been a connection to Sirius. But no matter how much he loved Sirius – and the idea of him, really – he hated this house and needed to get out.

If only he could find a place that he could feel right in. If he could move to Thornhill, he'd be able to spend his Friday evenings talking to Snape in the pub. He didn't know why the thought was so appealing nor why it made his stomach jump like a crazed Kneazle. He was afraid to analyse the feeling at all. Sometimes, Harry had learned, it was best to let things be. If something came of it, then that was fine. And if things stayed the way they were, not having pondered too much would be a relief.

******

  
Next time Harry saw Snape again, he had seen two more houses, but none had felt quite right. He told Snape as much as they sat in The Jumping Pig again and Snape didn't seem to be as relieved as Harry had expected.

"I'm just tired, Potter, that's all," Snape said and took a sip of his pint that he had brought straight to the table after ordering it.

Harry decided to let it go and rather concentrated on sitting there with Snape. The thought made him feel warm inside. Good. He gulped his smile down with beer and said, "So your potion business is going well?"

Snape sniffed. "Good enough. Why so curious, Potter? Are you looking to change careers?"

"Why, do you want me to say yes so you can invite me to your lab and watch how something explodes in my face?"

A languid shrug and the smirk playing on Snape's lips told Harry just how right he was with that assessment. "I wouldn't let you near my lab, Potter."

"But you'd still enjoy watching the explosion."

"That I would."

Harry resisted kicking Snape under the table – there was no telling that Snape wouldn't risk a hex even in front of the Muggles – and stuck out his tongue instead.

"Very mature."

Harry grinned and then nodded at the empty glass in Snape's hand. "Want another one?"

Snape stared at the glass long and hard, nearly as if he was having a debate with it. But in the end, he nodded and Harry was eager to comply by getting two pints of the local brew.

******

  
Two hours and three pints later, both Potter and Severus had long crossed the tentative state of 'tipsy' and blundered straight to 'talkatively drunk'. To no one’s surprise, Potter turned out to be a chatterbox, going on and on about his friends' lives and his hunt for a house. The latter was mildly interesting, and Severus participated in the conversation with the occasional grunt and acerbic remark about certain parts of the town. Or actually all of it, really, in an attempt to dissuade Potter from moving there. The bloody sod seemed to know when he was lying, though. It was not a quality Severus admired in him.

For the rest of the conversation, Severus was too caught up with watching Potter's lips move – they did shine an awful lot in the pub light, being slightly wet with lager – and found himself not to be listening at all, which did explain why Potter grabbed his hand and shook it a little to get his attention. It did not, however, explain why Potter's hand stayed there. Nor why Severus didn't try shaking it off.

Potter's hand was warm and a little callused. His fingers were nimble and promised more – what exactly, Severus didn't dare to think about. He squeezed Potter's hand hesitantly at first, unsure if he really wanted to go down this road. But another sip of lager warmed his belly and kicked caution out the window.

"Maybe -" Potter started, but Severus interrupted him almost immediately.

"I have a bottle of brandy at home. Would you care for some?" And when Potter nodded, Severus didn't waste another second, so he pulled him up and out.

They stumbled through the streets, bumping against each other, heads turning this way or that to become almost-kisses. Severus had long switched off his brain – all he could focus on was Potter. They stopped at his doorstep and he fumbled for the key until his impatience got the better of him and he just used a spell – to hell with any Muggle who saw them. He needed to get Potter inside, now.

The door hadn't even closed properly when Severus took hold of Potter's face and kissed him, hard and fast and as if he was afraid Potter was going to pull away. As if he wanted to savour every second of the kiss that might be the only one he would get. And maybe he was afraid, maybe he should be, but what counted for that moment were Potter's lips and his moans and how Potter _arched_ against him.

Potter's taste was addictive, so uniquely him that Severus found no comparison. They slipped off their jackets, and then their hands went to each other. Slowly, Severus pushed his hands under Potter's jumper, pushed it up slowly until his fingertips brushed Potter's nipples. A gasp told of Potter's sensitivity and Severus couldn't hold back – he ducked and took one of the nubs between his teeth, pulled gently before giving it a lick. Potter's hips snapped forward. Severus finished pulling off Potter's jumper completely, only to have Potter almost tear off his own. Both landed on the floor somewhere and Severus couldn't care less.

They stumbled and fumbled their way towards the bedroom, trousers opening, fingers stroking and touching, gripping hair and _pulling_ , always pulling. Severus kissed Potter as they sank onto the bed and shucked off their pants.

"Fuck me," Potter panted hoarsely, and Severus was eager to comply. One hand took the lube from his nightstand while his other gripped Potter's knee as he moved down on him. Potter's dick – thick, hard and heavy, waiting there like a prize – twitched in anticipation, and Severus licked it from base to tip.

He slicked his middle- and forefinger, and pushed first one, then both into Potter's hole. Potter clung to him as he pushed against Severus' fingers, crying out for more. Severus found himself at a loss for words – all he could do, all he wanted, really, was to feel. He licked his way up Potter's chest as his fingers kept on fucking, pushed Potter's leg up. Potter pulled him down for a kiss and, in between their lips and tongues touching, Severus lined up his cock and _pushed_.

One hand next to Potter's head, Severus groaned in unison with Potter when he was sheathed completely. He didn't give Potter much time to adjust; he couldn't hold back and he started fucking him as if he was born to do just that. Potter grabbed his arse, pulled him closer, further, demanding more.

"Harder! Oh God!"

Severus took Potter's dick in his hands and started jerking him off as the speed of his fucking increased. His hips snapped back and forth, and Severus could feel his orgasm building. He looked down at Potter – eyes closed, moaning, begging, shining with sweat – and kissed him hard one last time before coming.

Potter reached down and his hand joined that of Severus. Seconds later, he spilled all over his and Severus' chest. Severus fell into bed next to Potter, gasping for breath.

"That was…" he began and found himself at a loss for words. Already his eyelids were dropping.

"Brilliant!" Potter breathed and covered them both with a blanket.

******

  
Harry woke up with a headache, rolled around and tried to go back to sleep. He dozed for a while until the scent of sheets and the sounds of a house that weren't his penetrated his mind. Not opening his eyes, he tried to recollect the events of the past night. The pub, their hands touching, _the damn hot sex_.

His eyes shot open and he turned his head – too quickly to be comfortable – and found himself to be alone in a spacious bed. The sheets were mussed and the tell-tale scent of sweat and sex hung in the air. Harry pushed back the duvet and manoeuvred himself out of bed while trying not to move his head all that much. Slowly, he wandered through the room and found his clothes lying neatly folded on a chair.

Harry blinked. He certainly hadn't done that. And Severus had been too preoccupied with other things last night, too. Oh, how giddy it made him to use Snape's first name. The fact that they had slept together gave him that right, Harry found, but he had no idea how Severus would react to that. He donned his clothes that Severus must've put there in the morning when he'd left and ventured out into the hallway.

The house was quiet. Harry made his way through the hallway and found himself in the living room. He'd been here before, that night when he'd met Severus. He hadn't noticed the books on the wall or the cosy-looking leather sofa. Harry wandered through the room, trying to get a feel of the place – and of Severus. Where did Severus have his laboratory? Surely he must be somewhere in the house and the lab was most likely. But Harry's quest was unsuccessful and the only thing he found was a cold kitchen. No teapot was waiting – not that he had really expected it – and Harry didn't dare going through the cupboards to find one. So he sighed, wrote a note on a slip of parchment he found, and put it on the kitchen table. Then he grabbed his wand and Disapparated.

******

  
Severus stared at the note with distaste and a headache. He had waited for Potter to leave in order to avoid an unwelcome conversation.

The whole thing had been a mistake. Obviously. What might have seemed to come naturally last night, after several pints, was nothing but cruelty in the light of day. Potter might have enjoyed himself (from the sounds he had made, it had been obvious), but Severus was too much of a realist to know that nothing more could come from this. Potter and he, while compatible in bed, just didn't mix well. It wasn't only age and history that made Severus sure of this. It was just a fact.

When he'd woken up, Severus had felt comfortable. A warm body next to his, his limbs still relaxed from last night's activities…until he'd realised that it was Potter who was lying next to him. Severus had shot out of bed and into the shower. Afterwards, he'd hid in his laboratory with a pot of tea and a hangover potion until Potter had finally left.

The note wasn't quite what he'd expected, but unfortunately for Severus, it mentioned exactly what he dreaded to talk about. What he had known Potter would say, what his words would implicitly promise, and what could never work. Would they see each other again? Potter had enjoyed himself and wanted Severus to Floo him.

With a flick of his wand, Severus banished the note and marched off to his laboratory. Maybe brewing would help him forget.

******

  
Harry visited the pub for the rest of November, but he never saw Severus again. Nor did Severus call. And that one time Harry had tried himself, he found that Severus' Floo had been blocked for some reason. He tried telling himself that it was okay, that Severus probably was overthinking things (he did know the man, after all), but waiting and hoping sucked.

And so Harry busied himself with the hunt for a house and – when he had finally found one – with the move. There was so much to pack and organise, to transport and to arrange. Minor renovations, easily fixed with magic and a little bit of muscle work, kept him busy in the evenings for a while, but soon enough Harry found himself back in the pub. He greeted the locals – he didn't count himself as one, not even now – with the familiarity that had developed over the weeks and ordered his usual before sitting down at one of the tables. As per usual, the pub wasn't crowded, not even at this hour when people usually went to blow their earnings on a post-work drink or seven.

Harry stretched out his legs and sighed, feeling so much more content than he had in a long time. It really had made an impact on his life to get rid of old Grimmauld Place. Someone else would appreciate it more, probably, and he could begin anew in the new place. One bedroom, one guest room, a kitchen and a sitting room, in addition to two baths. And if needs must, Harry would always be able to add some more rooms with a good old Wizarding space spell. Which he had yet to learn, but Harry was sure Hermione would be able to help him out there.

Just as he was about to ponder whether or not he should repaint his living room, the pub's door opened and Severus walked in. He looked like he always did – pale and tired, a scarf wrapped high around his neck, almost high enough for his head to vanish into it, like a tortoise that drew its neck in. He had not yet noticed Harry.

Harry felt his mouth go dry, despite the sip of lager he'd just had. The sight of Severus, especially unexpected as it was, tickled something inside him. Images of the night they had spent together flashed through his mind, only to be followed by memories of the evenings they had spent here in the pub, talking.

Severus took his beer from Ned and turned, only to freeze when he spotted Harry. Harry smiled and then started to say something, anything really, but Severus only nodded at him and moved to the other side of the room.

******

  
Weeks passed. Snow had started falling and Severus continued to see Potter in the pub. Like clockwork, Potter would sit at the same table, facing the door when Severus entered. Waiting, no doubt, though Severus didn't know what for.

Maybe it was the look on Potter's face that made him have those dreams. Dreams of fucking Potter in front of a fireplace were something he could deal with. The ones where they were cuddling – _cuddling_ of all things – or buying groceries were a little more disconcerting. But what really bothered him was when Potter's stubborn stare turned into Lily's and his childhood friend told him he was a hard-headed moron. And maybe that was true, but Severus refused to let desires and dreams dictate his actions. He wasn't willing to risk everything with Potter, because he had already risked so much.

And yet... and yet Potter seemed to haunt him whether he was awake or asleep, always an annoying fixture in his life. Maybe he wasn't meant to get rid of him. It even went so far that Severus almost missed him. And what with him sitting in the pub, ready to pick up conversation where they had left off, maybe.... It was like dangling the prize right in front of Severus’ face. He only needed to cross the distance between them and they would be able to talk again.

But the whole thing was completely ridiculous, wasn't it? To feel this way about someone else. Severus couldn't remember ever having felt like this about someone. Not even Lily, not even Dumbledore. His relationship with them had been different, not comparable.

Severus looked outside the window and sighed as he watched the snowflakes fall. The hour was late and the world quiet, just as he preferred it. It was Christmas Eve and the world took a deep breath before going on strong the next day. Now why was it that he, for the first time in his life, felt the need to venture out into the world to pay Potter a visit?

Severus shook his head and turned away from the window.

******

  
Harry put the roast in the oven and wiped his hands on a towel. He had been afraid he wouldn't get the house ready in time for Christmas, but he had managed to make everything nice and cosy. Perfect for Christmas – only now that it was Christmas Eve and everything was done, he didn't quite know what to do with himself. He wasn't in the mood for TV and Christmas music was already playing in the background.

Harry went to the window and looked outside. In the new year, he was sure, everything would get even better. Once he got used to this new place, this new life, he'd be alright.

A figure on the edge of his field of vision caught his attention and Harry automatically reached for his wand. He stopped mid-movement as he recognized the way the man was holding himself, but he stayed put. He saw the man – saw Severus – hesitate and then eventually venture forward. It was only when the knock came that Harry moved.

"Happy Christmas," Harry said with a wary smile as he opened the door.

Severus moved awkwardly from one leg to the other, then held up a bottle of wine. "I thought maybe something other than lager was in order."

Harry didn't have to think long about his reaction. He just stepped aside and asked, "Do you want to come in?"  


-The End-

  



End file.
